One Week in Winter
by hamletlaertes
Summary: AU where there was no wall breach; Jean and Marco are both alive. They join the Military Police and move in together. Jean has harboured a long time dislike for the winter and its chill. Marco, on the other hand, loves the season and goes out of his way to convince his boyfriend of its merits. Jeanmarco fluff ensues! Rated T for swearing and innuendos.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** **Hello! This is my first SNK fanfiction. I wrote this for an amazing friend who introduced me to the show since her OTP is Jeanmarco. Enjoy! **

* * *

"Fuck."

It was Sunday. Most of the officers in the military police would sleep in on this day, but Jean's sleep had been disturbed by the oddly harsh light shining through the window.

"What is it, Jean?"

"It's… gross outside. Go back to bed, Marco. For the next few months." Jean sank back onto the bed and hid his face in his hands. "Gross."

Marco knew better than to press his friend, so he got up and walked lazily to the window, ruffling Jean's hair as he passed.

"Look, Jean! It's winter! There's snow!" Marco said, his excitement briefly driving Jean's misery from his mind. He opened the window and leaned out to scrape the windowsill with his finger, licking off the snow that stuck there.

"Will you fucking shut that!? I can't believe this. Why me?" Jean slumped sideways and lay staring despondently at the wall. "Why did this happen?"

"I don't think winter is a phenomenon uniquely experienced by you, Jean. And… I can't understand your reaction to it… Why are you so upset?"

"It's cold. It's cold. It's _cold_… and it's slippery. And wet. And bleak. And _cold_."

"…And beautiful," Marco said. He frowned out the window.

"The way Mikasa is beautiful. It might look nice, but it's frigid and unwelcoming and can only break your heart. And your arm, if you fall."

"Jean!"

"It's true! I don't want any part of it."

"But… it's no fun to make a snowman alone…"

Jean sat up straight again. Suddenly he felt like taking his words back. All the excitement had gone from Marco's voice.

"Well… if… maybe… maybe we could build one snowman. Once. If you want. If it'd make you happy."

Marco spun around, leaned against the windowsill and steepled his fingers together in front of his nose. There was scheming in his eyes. "We're going to have a lot of fun this winter, Jean."

"What? Hey… you jerk! I thought you were sad!"

Marco leaned his face down to Jean's level and cupped Jean's chin with one hand.

"Let's make a deal."

"Uh…."

Marco laid a finger over Jean's lips.

"If I can make you love winter in one week… You have to make me dinner. A nice dinner. And you have to do whatever I say afterward."

Jean's breath caught in his throat, and he pulled away. "And… if you can't?"

"Well then. I guess you win." The innocent façade was back up. "What would you _like_ to do if you win?"

Jean could only stare.

"Come on, you. I only have a week to make you love winter. We should get started. Not that I think I have a chance of failing. Let's go get bundled up!"

* * *

"I don't understand where we're going. Or what that is you're holding. And I'm cold." Jean stuffed his gloved hands deeper into his pockets.

"This is the sled I've used since I was little. It's pretty small… but if we snuggle together I bet we'll both fit on it." Marco looked with pride at the sled under his arm. "My dad made it."

"What's it for?"

"Jean, you like to go fast, right? When we were learning how to use the 3DMG you were always flying around like a maniac. You'll like this. To use the sled, you sit on it and slide down a hill."

"That sounds… like a bundle of fun."

"No, really, it is! You've just got to try it. I promise, you'll love it."

Wall Shina was built around a hill, so that the castle of the King sat atop the hill right in the center with a view of everything else around it. Though the hill was gradual towards the wall, as one approached the castle it became very steep.

"We're taking the sled to the king? What are you going to do, invite him along?"

"No, silly. We're not going to the king. We're going to the hill."

"We're going to slide down _that_ hill on _that_ piece of wood? _That _hill? Are you sure that's… survivable?"

Standing at the base, the hill seemed nearly vertical, and studded with trees.

"Come on, Jean, we're among the top ten titan fighters in our class. I think we can handle a hill and a few trees. Unless you want me to go alone first to prove it to you?"

Jean had a sudden vision of Marco spiraling alone, out of control, down the hill.

"No, I'll go with you. But you know, you're the only one I'd follow into danger for a plan this stupid."

"Don't I feel special!" Marco linked his arm through Jean's and they started up the hill.

"Marco… Maybe we should just turn around."

The hill that had looked daunting from the base looked deadly from the top. Marco was settling the sled into a snowbank at the steepest part he could find.

"We are turning around. There's only one problem…"

"What is it?"

"I think… one of us will definitely have to sit on the other's lap."

"Marco…"

"I swear it'll be fun, Jean! Please just trust me?"

"Alright. Only you."

"Can I sit on your lap, Jean?"

Jean smiled and sat down on the sled, trying to get comfortable. His whole body was shaking. Marco settled down on his lap.

"It's going to be fun, trust me."

Jean could only nod. Marco gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and they were off.

The trees were farther apart than they'd seemed from the top of the hill, and easy to avoid. Every time they hit a bump, Marco threw his hands up, trusting Jean to hold onto him so he didn't fall off the sled. By the time they reached the middle, both men were laughing and screaming. As the hill began to level out, Marco suddenly tackled Jean and they tumbled the rest of the way in each other's arms.

They lay at the bottom, cuddling and out of breath. Marco pulled away after a short while and stared at Jean with one eyebrow raised.

"Shut up Marco. That was… alright."

Jean put up feeble protest against the second trip down, but after the third trip had dropped all pretense of being afraid. After a few more runs he even stopped trying to pretend he wasn't enjoying himself. By suppertime, they'd worn a track up the hill with their footsteps, and lost track of the number of times they'd sledded down. Marco was so exhausted he could barely stand, but tried to heave up the sled onto his shoulder for the trip home.

"I don't think so," Jean said, and tossed the sled by the strap over his shoulder. The walk back seemed infinitely longer. At the threshold Marco stopped.

"I can't do it, Jean. I can't go on."

"Come on, Marco, just a few more steps!"

Marco leaned wearily against the doorframe. "Jean, I'm just so tired… won't you carry me?"

"All right, you manipulative little shit. Just this once." When he picked Marco up, he noticed some un-melted snowflakes still stuck in his eyelashes, and kissed him once on each eye. "Help me with dinner?"

He set Marco down on the kitchen counter and stowed the sled away in the basement. When he got back Marco was already at work on a dinner of chicken and rice.

"Do I win yet?"

"Not even close. We could have died. It was exhilarating… but I don't think it quite merits changing my attitude on the entire season. Keep trying though."

"Don't worry," Marco said. "I will. And I will win."

"Yeah, whatever you say," Jean said, and hugged Marco from behind as he stirred the rice. "I look forward to it."

* * *

"Fuck."

It was Sunday. Most of the officers in the military police would sleep in on this day, but Jean's sleep had been disturbed by the oddly harsh light shining through the window.

"What is it, Jean?"

"It's… gross outside. Go back to bed, Marco. For the next few months." Jean sank back onto the bed and hid his face in his hands. "Gross."

Marco knew better than to press his friend, so he got up and walked lazily to the window, ruffling Jean's hair as he passed.

"Look, Jean! It's winter! There's snow!" Marco said, his excitement briefly driving Jean's misery from his mind. He opened the window and leaned out to scrape the windowsill with his finger, licking off the snow that stuck there.

"Will you fucking shut that!? I can't believe this. Why me?" Jean slumped sideways and lay staring despondently at the wall. "Why did this happen?"

"I don't think winter is a phenomenon uniquely experienced by you, Jean. And… I can't understand your reaction to it… Why are you so upset?"

"It's cold. It's cold. It's _cold_… and it's slippery. And wet. And bleak. And _cold_."

"…And beautiful," Marco said. He frowned out the window.

"The way Mikasa is beautiful. It might look nice, but it's frigid and unwelcoming and can only break your heart. And your arm, if you fall."

"Jean!"

"It's true! I don't want any part of it."

"But… it's no fun to make a snowman alone…"

Jean sat up straight again. Suddenly he felt like taking his words back. All the excitement had gone from Marco's voice.

"Well… if… maybe… maybe we could build one snowman. Once. If you want. If it'd make you happy."

Marco spun around, leaned against the windowsill and steepled his fingers together in front of his nose. There was scheming in his eyes. "We're going to have a lot of fun this winter, Jean."

"What? Hey… you jerk! I thought you were sad!"

Marco leaned his face down to Jean's level and cupped Jean's chin with one hand.

"Let's make a deal."

"Uh…."

Marco laid a finger over Jean's lips.

"If I can make you love winter in one week… You have to make me dinner. A nice dinner. And you have to do whatever I say afterward."

Jean's breath caught in his throat, and he pulled away. "And… if you can't?"

"Well then. I guess you win." The innocent façade was back up. "What would you _like_ to do if you win?"

Jean could only stare.

"Come on, you. I only have a week to make you love winter. We should get started. Not that I think I have a chance of failing. Let's go get bundled up!"

* * *

"I don't understand where we're going. Or what that is you're holding. And I'm cold." Jean stuffed his gloved hands deeper into his pockets.

"This is the sled I've used since I was little. It's pretty small… but if we snuggle together I bet we'll both fit on it." Marco looked with pride at the sled under his arm. "My dad made it."

"What's it for?"

"Jean, you like to go fast, right? When we were learning how to use the 3DMG you were always flying around like a maniac. You'll like this. To use the sled, you sit on it and slide down a hill."

"That sounds… like a bundle of fun."

"No, really, it is! You've just got to try it. I promise, you'll love it."

Wall Shina was built around a hill, so that the castle of the King sat atop the hill right in the center with a view of everything else around it. Though the hill was gradual towards the wall, as one approached the castle it became very steep.

"We're taking the sled to the king? What are you going to do, invite him along?"

"No, silly. We're not going to the king. We're going to the hill."

"We're going to slide down _that_ hill on _that_ piece of wood? _That _hill? Are you sure that's… survivable?"

Standing at the base, the hill seemed nearly vertical, and studded with trees.

"Come on, Jean, we're among the top ten titan fighters in our class. I think we can handle a hill and a few trees. Unless you want me to go alone first to prove it to you?"

Jean had a sudden vision of Marco spiraling alone, out of control, down the hill.

"No, I'll go with you. But you know, you're the only one I'd follow into danger for a plan this stupid."

"Don't I feel special!" Marco linked his arm through Jean's and they started up the hill.

"Marco… Maybe we should just turn around."

The hill that had looked daunting from the base looked deadly from the top. Marco was settling the sled into a snowbank at the steepest part he could find.

"We are turning around. There's only one problem…"

"What is it?"

"I think… one of us will definitely have to sit on the other's lap."

"Marco…"

"I swear it'll be fun, Jean! Please just trust me?"

"Alright. Only you."

"Can I sit on your lap, Jean?"

Jean smiled and sat down on the sled, trying to get comfortable. His whole body was shaking. Marco settled down on his lap.

"It's going to be fun, trust me."

Jean could only nod. Marco gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and they were off.

The trees were farther apart than they'd seemed from the top of the hill, and easy to avoid. Every time they hit a bump, Marco threw his hands up, trusting Jean to hold onto him so he didn't fall off the sled. By the time they reached the middle, both men were laughing and screaming. As the hill began to level out, Marco suddenly tackled Jean and they tumbled the rest of the way in each other's arms.

They lay at the bottom, cuddling and out of breath. Marco pulled away after a short while and stared at Jean with one eyebrow raised.

"Shut up Marco. That was… alright."

Jean put up feeble protest against the second trip down, but after the third trip had dropped all pretense of being afraid. After a few more runs he even stopped trying to pretend he wasn't enjoying himself. By suppertime, they'd worn a track up the hill with their footsteps, and lost track of the number of times they'd sledded down. Marco was so exhausted he could barely stand, but tried to heave up the sled onto his shoulder for the trip home.

"I don't think so," Jean said, and tossed the sled by the strap over his shoulder. The walk back seemed infinitely longer. At the threshold Marco stopped.

"I can't do it, Jean. I can't go on."

"Come on, Marco, just a few more steps!"

Marco leaned wearily against the doorframe. "Jean, I'm just so tired… won't you carry me?"

"All right, you manipulative little shit. Just this once." When he picked Marco up, he noticed some un-melted snowflakes still stuck in his eyelashes, and kissed him once on each eye. "Help me with dinner?"

He set Marco down on the kitchen counter and stowed the sled away in the basement. When he got back Marco was already at work on a dinner of chicken and rice.

"Do I win yet?"

"Not even close. We could have died. It was exhilarating… but I don't think it quite merits changing my attitude on the entire season. Keep trying though."

"Don't worry," Marco said. "I will. And I will win."

"Yeah, whatever you say," Jean said, and hugged Marco from behind as he stirred the rice. "I look forward to it."


	2. Chapter 2

"What are we going to do today, Marco?" Jean said.

"Well for a start, we have to work today."

Jean's face fell. "Oh, yeah."

"But we get off work at 5, right? That gives us plenty of time to appreciate winter."

"I'll never appreciate winter!"

"But you will, Jean. You will," Marco said.

Jean couldn't supress a smile while he helped Marco do up the straps of his 3-D movement gear. "You're all ready. Will you please tell me the plan for today?"

"No. It's a surprise. Here, let me help you with those buckles." Then Marco 'helped' Jean put on his gear in such a way that prevented any further conversation.

They gave each other a short kiss goodbye before parting ways at the front door.

"See you tonight. Love you!" Marco said.

"Yeah, love you too. Hopefully that love'll be enough to keep me warm walking to work in this infernal weather!" Jean stomped off in the ankle deep snow, leaving Marco smiling after him.

* * *

Though Jean would never let Marco know, he walked to his station smiling, anticipating the afternoon. He smiled while he patrolled the snow covered streets. He smiled when a young, ogling child told his father "When I grow up, I'm going to be like _that_ guy!" He even smiled when he saw Commander Nile Dawk making his rounds, inspecting the new officers of the military police.

"Something funny, Kirschtein?"

"Nothing, sir. Sorry, sir." _Nothing funny except that ridiculous hair and dirty-ass mustache._ Jean stood up straighter and attempted to keep his good humor off his face as the commander finished inspecting his form.

"Not a bad salute, Kirschtein. The report I received about you from training camp was stellar. Best in use of the 3DMG? Shame you won't be using it much."

"I thought that giving my body and soul in service to the king was more important, sir!"

"A good decision. Carry on."

Jean relaxed immediately after the commander had turned his back, and hurried quickly on with his patrol so he could let the suppressed laughter out. He was surprised at how fast the day passed after that, surprised at how his anticipation and happiness made the time fly. He ran home so fast he beat Marco, who was usually home first. He sat on the front steps and waited.

* * *

When Marco came home his eyes widened as if in horror.

"Jean! What are you doing outside! You have to get inside, quickly!"

"What? Why? Marco, what's wrong?"

"It's _cold_, Jean! It's winter! This weather is going to be the death of you! It's horrendous!" Marco pulled Jean to his feet and ushered him inside. "Oh, Jean. Your cheeks are rosy. I think it's the plague."

"Will you quit it?" the bright red the cold had left on Jean's face was quickly being replaced by a blush. "I was just excited to see you."

Marco's false concern faded to a sincere smile and he brushed some snow off of Jean's shoulders. "I'm happy to see you too, Jean. We should go change out of our uniforms and into something cozier. We're going to need to be really bundled up for this!"

After they'd changed out of their harnesses and into warmer clothes, Marco made a horrifying discovery.

"You mean you've never made a snowman before?! Are you serious? How did you go through your whole childhood without making snowmen?"

"I didn't play well with other kids on the playground… so they made snowmen without me."

"Well enough of that. You'll make one now."

They spent the next half hour seeing who could roll the biggest snowball to be the base.

"I think you win, Jean. Yours is definitely bigger." Marco wiggled his eyebrows.

"Oh, you think so?" said Jean, eyes wide with innocence.

"Definitely. Mine'll be the middle. I'll stack them, you make the head."

They continued their work in happy silence, occasionally meeting each other's eyes.

"I finished the head, Marco!"

"Yes, yes you did, Jean."

Jean's eyes widened at the change in tone of Marco's voice. "I… I meant… of the snowman…" Marco walked over and placed his fingertip on Jean's lips. "Yeah, looks like you finished that, too. Can I see?"

All stacked, the snowman stood taller than both men.

"You carved a face into it?! You're supposed to use carrots for the nose and buttons for the eyes and stuff..." Jean's face fell. "But that looks good too!" Marco smirked.

"It's so horrible you're laughing!"

"No… it's just… it looks like Shardis."

After a moment of silent study, Jean burst out laughing. "It does!"

"You got the eyeballs wrong. They're way farther back into his head. Give me a boost, I'll fix them!" He gouged his fingers into the snowman's eyes.

"Holy crap Marco… it looks possessed."

"So did he!"

"Wait, you give me a boost. The mouth isn't frowny enough!"

"Oh right…"

Several more alterations later and they had produced something truly wonderful.

"It's an abomination…"

"It's a masterpiece! In all my years of snowman-making I've never seen anything like this!"

"Well, that was fun. Shall we go inside? It's still winter, after all. It's cold."

"You go in, Jean. If you get supper ready I'll build something else… a surprise."

"Alright, I guess. Don't freeze."

While Jean cooked, Marco worked tirelessly. Only once did Jean come to check his progress, but Marco darted up the steps to push him back into the house, with admonitions to "Don't look" and "Stay inside until I come get you".

First, he found the biggest snowbank the yard had to offer. Big enough to comfortably seat two men. Then he hollowed it out carefully, making sure the walls were thick enough that the structure wouldn't collapse.

He heard Jean calling him from inside the house, so he walked up the steps and knocked politely on the front door. When Jean arrived, he put his hand to one side of the glass and Marco put his against other, exactly matching Jean's.

"Dinner's ready."

"Bring it outside. Make sure you bring a few candles, too."

"What?"

"Jean, can't you just trust me?"

When Jean returned with candles, Marco took them and left Jean waiting inside with instructions to pack the food into a picnic basket. When he was finally allowed out, Marco covered his eyes and led him out into the yard.

"Okay, you can open them!"

Jean couldn't make sense of what he saw. A mound of snow, faintly glowing from the inside, with a person-sized hole leading in and a smaller hole in the top from which smoke poured.

"What is it?"

"It's an igloo. Go on, go in!"

"In?"

"Yes, silly. It's hollow."

"Are you serious?"

Marco had had enough. He rolled his eyes, took the basket from Jean, and disappeared inside the igloo. Jean hesitated one half-second longer before following his love into the hole in the snow.

"Oh crap, it _is_ hollow."

"You should probably take off all those extra layers before you get too warm. What's for supper?"

Jean opened the picnic basket and pulled out a covered dish of potatoes and ham.

"Your favorite. But I thought you might get thirsty, too." Jean pulled out a bottle of wine and two delicate glasses. "I thought this might turn into an occasion, so I unpacked the fancy cups."

"Jean…" Marco looked down, blushing. "Thank you. This is really, really nice. Thank you."

"No, thank you. You've put so much work into this silly bet. I'm having the time of my life. You deserve a nice meal for all you've done so far. And not only that… Marco, you've… you've been the most important person in my life since I met you. I… I'll never be able to thank you enough. I wouldn't be the same man without you."

Marco was so flustered he could barely speak, so Jean doled out the meal onto their best plates and poured them both some wine. Marco sipped his wine, still looking down and blushing so scarlet his freckles almost blended right in with his skin.

"I love you, Marco," said Jean, and then placed his finger under Marco's chin to lift his face. They kissed for a moment, then Jean pulled away.

They ate in silence for a while, but eventually the wine got the better of them and Marco started giggling.

"What's so funny?"

"How like, you always forget how wrapped around my fingers you are. I can pretend to be sad and the next second you're on your knees begging for forgiveness… though you _could_ be doing something more productive down there… and then I'm all 'surprise, bitch!' I'm just faking being sad! And you're completely. Blown. Away. It's like you keep forgetting I'm not incapable of fucking with you."

"Marco, did you just _swear_!?"

Marco hiccupped. "Surprise, bitch!"

Jean choked on his wine. A thin red trail dripped between his fingers as he fought to contain himself.

"Consider this bitch surprised! Where'd you get that mouth, Marco?"

"Well the mouth, I was born with. The vocabulary, I picked up from you. And swearing is absolutely not the only skill I can perform with it."

"Oh? What else can you do?"

"Oh… well, you know."

"I think… you should probably elaborate."

"I think I should _demonstrate_," said Marco.

Eventually they were both so tired that they placed their spent dishes in a corner of the igloo, blew out the candles, and fell asleep right there, without bothering to bundle back up. Their shared body heat was enough to warm them both.

Halfway through the night, however, Jean awoke alone; Marco and his clothes were gone. He stumbled out of the igloo and nearly tripped over Marco.

"What are you doing?"

"I just… wanted to see the stars. But I didn't want to wake you. Now that you're here you can join me, though."

They lay side by side in the snow, talking quietly.

"My mum said stars are holes in the sky that were cut out to let the light on the other side of the universe shine through," Marco said.

"My mum said they were the brightly shining haloes of angels," Jean said. Marco giggled.

"Imagine being an angel? No one would even be able to see you because they'd be so blinded by your halo."

"I think she's wrong, because I think sometimes angels don't even need to have haloes." Jean's voice was quiet and serious. "I think sometimes there's nothing bright or special about angels that mark them as different, until you get to know them. I think sometimes… the angels that matter more than the ones up there are the ones down here, like you, Marco."

"I… I'm no angel. I'm as mortal as anyone else."

"You're as mortal, but you're still… different. I don't know what you've done to me to change me, but I'm a better person because I know you. I think that's the definition of angel. Someone who makes you want to be better." Marco started to speak but Jean laid a finger over his lips. "Thank you. For choosing me. For staying with me. For changing my life."

"Jean… stop. You're…" Marco rolled onto his back to hide his face with his hands. "My ego can't handle all this. You really have to stop."

"I will never stop."

"In a way… I'm glad. You're my angel too, Jean."

"Let's be angels together, then." Jean's voice lost some of its seriousness, replacing it with excitement. "Marco, hang on! There's… there's something I can show _you_ about winter! If you lay in the snow like this," Jean moved over and fell back into a patch of fresh snow. "And move your arms and legs like this… you can make the shape of an angel in the snow!"

Marco walked over to examine what Jean had done. Smiling to himself, he feigned surprise. "That's so cool! Let me try!" So he fell back next to Jean and made another angel. He was so close the two silhouettes brushed together. Jean helped him up so he didn't break the shape. The two linked arms and admired what they had made.

"They're flying together," said Jean. Marco's head was slumped against his chest. "Are you tired, Marco?"

"Mm."

So Jean picked him up and they crawled back into the coziness of the igloo.

"Goodnight, Marco."

"Goodnight, Jean."

They fell asleep, twin points of warmth in the middle of a freezing, unforgiving world.


	3. Chapter 3

Jean beat Marco home again, and sat just inside the door (wouldn't want Marco to think he was out enjoying the winter) with his eyes closed and a huge smile on his face. It'd been a busy day and he was tired. He drifted off, daydreaming about his morning.

_"Shit, Marco, what time is it?!" Jean sat bolt upright. The igloo was as bright as day inside, the morning sunlight illuminating it from all sides and encasing the men in a pure white, glowing dome. _

_"Relax; you think I'd let us be late?" Marco was leaning casually against Jean's legs, sipping something from a steaming mug. "It's only seven AM. We don't go in till 9. Here, I brought you some hot chocolate, too." _

_ Jean sat up and leaned against Marco's back, so they could sit comfortably, supporting each other. "Thanks. I don't imagine you'll tell me what horrific winter torture you have planned for us today?"_

_ "Not even half a chance, buddy."_

Jean was still leaning against the wall, asleep and drooling, when Marco walked in. He shook his friend's shoulder gently.

"Good afternoon, Jean," he said. Jean leaned his face against Marco's arm and smiled.

"'Ay."

"Good thing you didn't get unbundled. We're going out again."

"Where? Actually… never mind. Don't tell me. Surprise me."

"There's a good boy."

They walked in silence for a while, following the curve of the wall to a wooded area.

"Wow," Jean said.

"You've never seen the woods in winter?"

"I'm from Trost, we didn't have any woods there."

"That's a shame. You'll see them now."

The woods were completely dichromatic; blinding white snow tempered by the black-brown of the bark on the bare trees.

"Look, Marco! A cardinal!" The bird alighted on a branch as they walked past, holding hands. It provided a single spot of bloody red color in the harsh landscape.

"You know the names of different types of winter birds? I thought you hid inside all winter!"

"Well… there's books, too, you know. My dad had one with pictures of different birds. We used to read it together before bed every night. I learned the names from that."

"You've never really told me about your family," Marco said. He pulled off his glove to entwine his fingers in Jean's. "Will you?"

"Well it wasn't really a good idea to talk about it in training camp. Everyone else has dealt with so much loss among their families. And mine is completely intact. I didn't want to tell you about it because it felt too much like bragging, surrounded by all those people who could never again have what I've always taken for granted.

"My mum's in the Garrison, my dad's in manufacturing. I have a younger sister who is under enlistment age. We're all surprisingly close-knit, which is why I'm always writing them letters. Here inside the inner wall is farther from them than I've ever been… and it's what they've always wanted, but it's still a tough transition. I think they're glad I have you to look out for me, make sure I'm not alone.

"They've always wanted me to come here, to live as safely as possible, luxuriously, even. We definitely have the good life, Marco. And what with our huge salaries, there's still enough to send back to them and improve their lives. But… despite it all, I'm still a little sad. My little sister doesn't have a big brother, now. I wish they let us bring our families in with us." Jean pulled Marco just a bit closer for comfort. "I really shouldn't complain. I mean, look at all that we have. And I'm still not happy. It's disgusting, really. We could have ended up in the survey corps like Jaeger and his friends… or Connie and Sasha, who finished training and decided not to go into the military at all. They're farmers now. That's gotta be hard. We ended up most fortunate. And we have each other."

"They all chose the lives they're best suited to; I bet they're all happy. And it's not wrong for you to miss your family…" Marco was silent for a long time.

"Did I make you sad?"

"I just wish there was some way to fix the situation. You know, make it so you're completely happy, instead of still missing things. A way to bring your family here."

"What would you change? Other than bringing my family here… what makes you sad, Marco?"

The snow blanketing the trail and trees muffled every sound other than the two men's voices. The woods were silent, and Marco's next words seemed amplified in contrast.

"There's nothing, Jean. I'm perfectly happy. My family is happy and secure, including you. There's nothing else I want. My only goal is to make sure each individual day is as happy for you as possible because if it is… then I'm as happy as I can possibly be, too. In fact, my whole underlying goal in trying to make you love winter is to make sure your spirits stay high, that winter doesn't detract from your happiness. I mean… there's no way I can protect you from winter. And you know, Jean, if you can't beat 'em… join 'em."

"Marco… you really don't have to do that!"

"Hey, it's fun for me too! But I feel like that's what being in a relationship is really all about, making sure the person you're with is as happy as possible. This opportunity was really too good to pass up."

"Thank you."

"Thank you, Jean. Without you there'd be no one to go sledding with, to build snowmen with, and to camp out in igloos with. More than that though, there'd be no point in my life, without you."

"That's not true! There are tons of reasons why your life is so important. Don't be an idiot."

Marco stopped walking and pulled Jean into a hug, touching noses with him.

"You're my favorite reason, though." He nuzzled Jean's nose with his own.

"Marco, what are you doing?"

"It's amazing how many winter traditions have passed you by! This," he nuzzled Jean's nose again, "is an Eskimo kiss. Before the walls, there were people who lived far in the north where it's always winter. Sometimes, when they kissed, their spit would freeze them together –"

He was interrupted by a snort from Jean. "Gross."

" – so instead of kissing they just rubbed noses."

"What if their snot got them stuck together?"

Marco shoved Jean away. "Who's being gross now?"

The small talk continued throughout the walk until the trail once again gave way to city streets and they were on their way home. Their still-entwined, un-gloved hands turned pink and then red with cold, until Jean somehow managed to struggle one mitten on to both of their hands.

"I'm afraid you're going to win, Marco."

* * *

"Okay, so everything we've done so far has seemed kind of harmless… cold, but harmless… so I'm not really sure where you're going with this."

"What do you mean?"

"Those are shoes. With knives on the bottom. Marco, what's going on? Is this some kind of joke?"

It took a moment for Marco to compose himself long enough to speak. "Let me guess. You've never gone skating."

"Skating?"

"Figures. We're going out to the pond in the middle of the district, and we wear these –"

"Where?"

"On our feet, silly. They're called skates."

"You put those things on your _feet!?_"

"Not me, Jean. Us."

"Absolutely not. No way. I want to live, Marco."

Marco pulled his hand out of Jean's to run his finger along the bottom of the blade of one of the skates.

"They're not that sharp. They're not weapons; they just need to be thin so they slide over the ice better."

"Why do they slide on the ice? Wait, with us in them? Are you… are you kidding me?!" Jean's eyes were wide. "I just… don't understand."

"I'm sure you'll learn soon enough. Come on, we're almost there."

When they got to the pond they weren't the only skaters. It was just past suppertime, there were a few families teaching their children to skate; a few couples with arms linked, teenagers and older children looking as though they were flying across the surface. There was a young man doing spins, twirls, and jumps.

"How long have people been doing this?"

"Since forever, Jean, if you'd only stick your head out of the house once or twice during winter you'd have seen it by now. No matter. I've been doing this since I was really little, it'll be no problem to teach you. Sit down and take off your boots so I can show you how to put the skates on."

Marco pushed Jean gently down onto the bench, where he sat looking horrified and helpless.

"I promise it won't be so bad, Jean! It's really fun, once you get the hang of it."

"I've heard that before."

"And I was right, so hush for a minute and watch so you can do this next time."

Marco laced one of Jean's skates tightly to his ankle, and then watched as he tied the second one. It didn't take Marco very long to put on his own.

"Yours are my old ones, and I thought they'd fit you since you have smaller feet than me. Alright, can you stand?"

Jean stood and wobbled, steadied himself and fell backwards onto the bench again. Marco took his arm and guided him to the edge of the pond.

"You're going to have to learn how to stand before we get out there."

"It's slippery out there. I don't want to go out there. Especially not wearing these horrible things. As I said, I want to live."

Marco let go of Jean's hands, forcing him to stabilize himself, and glided around the rink with ease, skating backwards at times so as not to lose sight of Jean.

"Doesn't that look like fun?" he said when he returned.

"No."

"Think that all you want, you won't know until you try. You know I won't let you fall, right?"

Jean didn't say anything; he stared in mute horror at the skates tight around his ankles, at the other skaters, at Marco's outstretched hands. He shook his head.

"Nuh-uh."

"Alright then, your loss. Why don't you walk over and take those skates off, Jean?"

"I need your help!"

"Exactly. You can crawl over there or you can let me teach you to skate. Are you a man or a mouse, Jean?"

Marco couldn't keep from giggling at the murderous anger in Jean's eyes, which only infuriated Jean further. He stepped forward to shove Marco, but Marco was out of the way in a split second and Jean was falling, he was falling and he was going to land on the ice and hit his head. He closed his eyes and put his hands in front of his face, but he never landed.

"I told you, I won't let you fall, Jean."

"Alright. Fine. Let's go out there. No flowers at my funeral, please."

At Jean's first step onto the ice he instantly unbalanced and nearly hit the ice again before Marco caught him, picked him up, and twirled him effortlessly. Jean's face turned red in embarrassment.

"Can you put me down now?"

"Sure, if you're so worried about preserving your dignity. Hold onto my arms though. I'll pull you so you can get a feel for the ice."

Jean didn't catch on as quickly as Marco had hoped he would, so Marco skated backwards, pulling Jean by the wrists until most of the skaters on the pond drifted off, leaving only a few people on the ice. With more room to move, Jean's confidence increased and he pulled gently away from Marco. He slid from his residual motion for a few centimeters and then dragged to a halt.

"Marco, I'm stuck again."

Marco was about two feet ahead of him, his arms outstretched towards Jean.

"You aren't stuck. You can almost reach me, you just have to shuffle your feet forward a little bit."

"Marco, I can't. I'll fall."

"I won't let you. You won't learn unless you try."

So Jean wobbled forward the short distance between himself and Marco, arms flailing, stammering in fear all the way. When he reached Marco he collapsed into his arms, completely exhausted.

"Once you get better at it, you'll have more fun," Marco said. He pried Jean's fingers loose of his jacket and backed up several more feet. "See if you can make it over here!"

After a few more repetitions, Marco backing up and Jean wobbling unsteadily towards him, Jean rebelled and swore he would never learn, and that he wanted to quit. Marco managed to convince him to continue by rewarding each increasingly larger interval of ice with a kiss, and finally Jean started improving.

By the time the sun dipped behind the wall, Jean was skating slowly beside Marco, holding his hand.

"Was I right?" Marco asked.

"It's not so bad," Jean said. Marco smirked.

"So I was right. Like I have been about this whole thing so far. Do you still hate winter?"

"Winter is still cold. Winter is still harsh and grey and miserable."

"Every time you say that, you have less and less conviction."

By this time it had gotten quite dark, and Marco guided Jean over to the side of the pond so they could take their skates off.

"Hey Marco? If I keep practicing, will I be able to skate as well as you eventually?"

"Does that mean you like skating?"

Jean frowned. "Will I get good?"

"If you keep practicing. Which involves going out in the cold… into the bleak, unforgiving world of winter."

"Guess that means it's off the table for me."

"Well who really wants to go skating, anyway? It's strapping knives to your feet and wobbling all over the ice. It's not fun at all."

Jean elbowed him, and then linked his arm through Marco's. He stared straight ahead, hoping Marco wouldn't turn and see the huge smile he couldn't supress.


	4. Chapter 4

Marco had once again lured Jean out into the snow-covered city. Much to Jean's relief, however, Marco led him into a small coffee shop just down the road from their house.

"What? You're not even going to make me freeze my dick off this time?"

Marco smiled and squeezed Jean's hand. "You're going to need that tonight. What are you going to order?"

They both chose hot chocolate, then Marco led him to a small table right by the window. Jean sipped his hot chocolate, and ended up with a bit of froth on his lip. Marco wiped it away and then licked it off his finger, and Jean's eyes widened a little.

Marco smiled innocently. "I bet you're wondering why I've brought you here."

"It's definitely a surprise after the craziness of yesterday."

"One of the best things about winter is the way everyone acts. Winter brings out the best in people. Everyone is friendlier, happier, as it gets closer to Christmas." Marco stole a glance at Jean. "'Cept for people like you, of course, who turn into grumpy old turtles."

"I'm not a turtle."

"You look like one all scrunched up in your scarf like you usually are."

"I'm so sorry not everyone is a masochist who revels in the pain of being frozen all of the time."

"So that girl is a masochist?"

Passing by them on the street outside were a little girl and her father. The girl was running along the street with her mouth wide open to catch snowflakes. She was the picture of purity and happiness, dragging her father along the icy street, afraid to let go of his hand in case she fell.

"Maybe she is. You don't know her."

Marco laughed. "Sure, Jean. Look at that guy over there!"

Across the street from the father and daughter, an old man saw the girl and smiled before continuing on his way.

"Maybe he has a grown-up daughter and misses the days when she was still little. Maybe seeing that girl brightened up his day. See what miracles winter can work?"

"What does that old dude have to do with winter?" Jean was deliberately being disagreeable so Marco would have to continue. Marco's view of the world was fascinating to him.

"Winter made that little girl play in the snow. That resulted in her brightening that old dude's day. And look, over there. That little boy in front of the bookstore."

There was indeed a small boy standing just outside the bookstore with a brown paper-wrapped package in his tiny arms. He was staring at the little blonde girl in awe as she continued down the street, dancing now in the falling snow.

"Maybe he's so enchanted by her that he falls in love. Maybe they're soul mates and they get married. Maybe their child saves humanity from the titans. All because winter made that girl dance and that boy fall in love."

"Don't you think that's sort of… unlikely, Marco?"

"Is it impossible?"

"No."

"Well then I can dream."

Jean and Marco were soon both so caught up in the strange interconnectedness all around them that they were silent for a few moments. Each person on the street subtly impacted each of the others in some way, and it was fascinating. Jean had to admit, there were many more smiling faces, rosy cheeks, and friendly greetings going on than in the summer months. _Maybe it's their mutual discomfort leading them to feel greater companionship_, he thought. He pushed the thought aside. The winter was beautiful. Everyone on the street was out there sharing in that beauty, no wonder they wanted to smile and greet one another so warmly. _Damn it,_ thought Jean. _Marco's going to win for sure._

Marco's thoughts seemed to be on the same track.

"You can't even try to deny that it's beautiful," he said.

Jean looked away from the window and cupped his chin in his hands. "I can deny whatever I want to deny."

"Aw, Jean, don't be that way. It's not fair if you lie about what you're thinking."

"Who says I'm lying?"

"I know you, Jean. I can tell when you're being a petty liar to prove me wrong."

"It _is_ pretty. But I can't let you win just yet. There are a few more days left in your bet, and I'm too curious to surrender right now." Before Marco could open his smug little mouth, Jean was pointing out the window and talking again. "Look, under that streetlamp. I think I see what you mean about winter bringing out the best in everyone."

Under the streetlamp, by the windowless wall of one of the shops, a couple stood, leaning against each other in the snow, smiling, and talking as everyone else walked past, seeming not to notice them.

"I think they're a couple," said Marco, looking closer. "Wait, is that…"

As Jean recognized the man, he couldn't hold back his laughter. "Chief Nile is getting the booty tonight! Weird, I always pictured him as kind of a unit unto himself. I wonder who that woman is." As they watched, the woman took a glance at the clock on the face of one of the buildings, did a double take, and pulled away from Nile. She appeared to be about to leave, she turned away. And then, seemingly on impulse, she twirled back to face Nile and planted a kiss right on his lips. She hurried into the building without another word, and Nile was left smiling in the snow.

"I bet that's his wife and he walked her to work because of the cold," Marco said. "They got to spend just a little more time together and even share another kiss, thanks to winter."

"If we go out in the cold, will you feel bad about my lips getting frostbite and kiss them?"

"What if our spit freezes like the Eskimos?"

"All the better. I wouldn't mind having my face glued to yours."

Marco laughed. They continued to people-watch as the hot chocolate in their cups slowly drained away. They saw many more couples; some seemed like awkward new relationships, while others looked as though they had been in love for so long they could sense each other's thoughts. They saw babies in strollers with tiny, grasping pink hands waving around as they felt the gentle bite of snow for the very first time. They saw packs of children chasing each other, carefully aiming snowballs to hit only their targets and leave the other pedestrians unscathed. There were pairs of friends laden with parcels, out doing their Christmas shopping.

The diversity of people passing them by was astounding and riveting, and they sat long after their hot chocolate had been drained away to nothing. They were there, looking out the window at the few people still out and about after darkness fell, making up complex back stories for them, when the owner of the coffee shop began cleaning up the tables for the day and switched the sign on the door to read closed. As they watched the people outside, the shop owner watched them and smiled at the way they held hands across the table, how their smiles never faltered. He was sad to see them go when he informed them that the shop was closed.

Halfway down the street, Jean pulled Marco into a shadow by the wall.

"You've got a little something, there," he said, brushing Marco's lips with his fingertips. "Must be leftover hot chocolate."

"Would you mind taking care of that for me?" said Marco, leaning towards him.

They kissed in the falling snow, victims of the charms of winter.

* * *

"Well," Marco said. "Day six."

"Yup, day six."

Jean and Marco were standing in a huge open courtyard. Their footsteps, leading to the place where they stood, were the only marks on the freshly fallen, knee-deep snow. It glittered in the sun; they stood in a field of diamonds.

"Feeling convinced yet?"

"I need a little more convincing."

"I've got that covered. This is the day I've been planning for all week. It's gonna be big."

"You've been planning?"

"I had this entire week mapped out since I made the bet, Jean. This day took the most effort."

They stood in silence for a little while longer, staring out at the white field. Jean fidgeted and glanced nervously at Marco, who stood immobile.

"So…" Jean said. Marco looked at him, then back across the field. Jean shifted his weight from foot to foot. He held his breath and counted to ten. He contorted his face, trying to find a way to look at his own eyebrows. It was in the middle of this activity that Marco looked over at him.

"Jean, look ove-….. what are you doing?" Jean immediately composed his face, but it was too late. Both Marco and Jean burst out laughing. "Look. Over there," Marco managed to say, struggling to get the words out between snorts of laughter. On the other side of the field, two waving figures could be seen. Marco was waving back, hopping up and down with both arms in the air.

"Who are they?" Jean said.

"Our friends! Come on!" Marco grabbed Jean's hand and pulled him across the field.

"Marco! Jean!" Connie and Sasha broke into a run. They grabbed each other's hands and surrounded Jean and Marco in a hug.

"Gayboy sandwich!" Connie said.

"I'm surprised you managed to contain yourself after hearing the word 'sandwich', Sasha," Marco said. The four embraced once more. Sasha pulled off her glove to fix her hair, and the gold band on her finger sparkled.

"Wow, you guys are still married?" Jean said.

"Well, all the other ladies 'round the neighborhood are terribly upset," Connie said, twisting his own ring. "But I think maybe I'll keep Sasha around a bit longer." He twirled her around and dipped her into a kiss so low her hair swept the snowy ground.

"Gross, man," Jean said. "Get a room." Then he grabbed the back of Marco's head and kissed him so aggressively their teeth audibly cracked together. They broke apart when Sasha grabbed Marco's hand and examined it.

"You guys _aren't_ married yet?"

"Not yet." Marco blushed. "Hey, look!"

"It's Reiner and Bertholdt!"

Connie, Sasha, Jean, and Marco all rushed forward, only to be caught up, all at once, into one of Reiner's massive bear-hugs.

"Hey guys! It's so cold Bert isn't even sweating!" Connie said after they'd all been set down.

"Nah, he's always sweating," Reiner said. "Look, I found a drop right here!" he swept his finger along Bert's hairline, triumphantly displaying the moisture there. "It comes in handy. We're always telling the trainees that if they act up, we'll dunk them in the tank of Bertie sweat we keep stored in a secret room." The crossed swords on the shoulder of Reiner's jacket symbolized the trainee corps, which he and Bertholdt had joined immediately after graduating. Jean thought back to when they'd made the decision.

_"We're obviously the best at this, so we should stay here and show next year's trainees how it's done." _Jean smiled. Those poor children. And from the stories Bertholdt had written in his letters, poor Shardis. His fellow teachers were just as capable at causing mischief as the trainees.

Jean's reverie was broken by a distant call of "Hey, Horseface!"

Four more figures were walking towards them.

"I wonder who Eren brought," Sasha said.

"Whoever they are, they're awfully small. Maybe he and Mikasa had a kid!" Sasha elbowed Connie.

Everyone stared as the four came closer. None of them recognized the short, scowling man accompanying Eren, Armin, and Mikasa.

Eren introduced him.

"This is Levi, our captain. He has no friends and he never has any fun, so we brought him along."

"Eren, maybe you shouldn't-" Eren cut Armin off with a gesture.

"He's here as my _friend_, not my captain. So I don't have to be nice to him."

Levi's scowl deepened, but he introduced himself. The replies were hushed and awkward until something clicked in Marco's head.

"_The_ Captain Levi? You're sort of famous, aren't you? Humanity's strongest soldier?" Marco's voice was full of awe.

"Humanity's strongest? Looks more like humanity's shortest," Connie said, sizing Levi up. A slight flush colored the captain's face, and Sasha dealt a crippling kick to Connie's shin, doubling him over.

"Tch. Look who's talking, little shit." There was a silence before Eren cracked up. The whole group burst out laughing, except Levi, who glared out across the field; and Connie, who was still whimpering on the ground.

The grouping expanded once again when Annie showed up, joining the group quietly and gravitating towards Reiner and Bertholdt.

More of the former 104th trainee squad showed up as time passed; Mina and Thomas arrived holding hands. They'd left the military after training to go into manufacturing. Hannah and Franz followed; they'd chosen the Garrison. Ymir and Krista were the last to arrive, also members of the Garrison. Once everyone had arrived, Marco stepped forward and addressed them all.

"All of you know why you've been gathered here today," Marco said. "All except you, Jean. And in a way it's all because of you that we're here." He proceeded to tell the assembly about his bet with Jean.

"In order to convince Jean of winter's value, I've gathered you all here today… for a snowball fight."

Jean gulped.

"What's a snowball fight?"


	5. Chapter 5

The snow was thick enough that forts could be made fairly quickly just by pushing some of it into a mound and crouching behind it. Right now, there seemed to be a ceasefire.

There were no teams, it was every man for himself, but Marco hadn't had the heart to leave Jean alone in this unknown game. Some other alliances had been made; Mina, Hannah, and Sasha had teamed up and seemed to be specifically targeting Thomas, Franz, and Connie. Mikasa had turned to Eren when the fight began, but after getting a fistful of snow in the face, teamed up with Armin for revenge. Eren had run off to join Reiner and Bert, who stood back to back on either side of Annie. Their formation was highly strategic, with Annie in the middle, using her superior aim as on offensive weapon while Bert and Reiner covered her. Eren took up a position covering her back. Everyone stood absolutely still, waiting for the fight to start back up again.

"Peek, Marco. Find out what's going on!" Jean said. He was cowering in fright against the side of the mound of snow. So Marco carefully poked his head over the barrier. Ymir, standing a small distance away, was startled by the movement and whipped a snowball at him. Marco ducked back just in time.

"The situation is a little tense…" Marco crawled around the side of the mound, carefully staying out of sight of Ymir. "They're all just standing there."

From this vantage point, Marco could see Eren's hand twitching. Then he saw that Eren had a snowball carefully cradled in one arm, his coat blocking his body heat from melting it. Marco followed his line of sight. He was staring at Levi. Levi's back was turned and was carefully watching Connie, who stared right back, bouncing a snowball in his hand and grinning. Finally the temptation was too much, and Eren raised his arm to throw.

"Jean, get ready. I think it's starting again." This time they both stuck their heads around the barrier. Eren was rubbing his face, bewildered. His hair, face, and coat were covered with snow. Armin was brushing snow off his hands, smirking. His face instantly smoothed into confused innocence when Eren turned to him.

This had distracted Levi, whose attention flickered away from Connie to Eren. Connie took advantage of the distraction to throw his snowball. Levi ducked, scooped up a snowball, and hit Connie in the center of the chest, all in one fluid movement.

Suddenly snow was everywhere. Marco pulled Jean behind the barrier just before a projectile had the chance to hit him. It flew harmlessly by.

"Have they forgotten us?" Jean said.

"I think so. Let's make some snowballs while we have the chance."

Amid the cries and shouts, Jean and Marco worked quietly, their knees touching, rolling snowball after snowball.

"Who will we target with all these?"

"Whoever we can hit. That's how a snowball fight works. Although with our military training this is a little more intense than your typical childhood game." A rogue snowball grazed the top of Jean's hat, illustrating Marco's point.

"Hey, potato girl! You missed!" Connie yelled, diving behind the barrier. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw Jean and Marco crouched there. He looked over the huge pile of snowballs they'd amassed, and a wicked grin replaced his shock.

"Nononono. No you don't. No." But Connie was already reaching for the pile. There was nothing for it. Marco shoved the handful of snow he was working on down the back of Connie's shirt. While Connie danced around trying to shake the snow out, Marco nodded to Jean. The two scooped up all the snowballs they'd made and dashed out into the fray.

Back to back they spun, aiming at anyone and everyone in sight. The other small fights around them broke apart as the fighters noticed this new threat. By the time Jean and Marco ran out of snowballs, they'd hit nearly everyone. Suddenly they were unarmed and surrounded by a mob of snow-covered, angry soldiers.

"Run!" they both yelled, splitting up and diving into the crowd. But there was no escaping Annie. A snowball of Marco's had caught her right in the face. It was the first time she'd been hit in the battle. Jean and Marco were running towards each other, trying to regroup, when Annie threw a snowball at Marco. The right side of his face was obliterated behind the white, and he dropped forward into Jean's arms.

"Be strong, Jean! Carry on without me!"

"Don't be an idiot, come on!" Jean tossed Marco over his shoulder. Eren was advancing quickly, and though Marco called out a warning, he knew it would be too late for Jean to defend himself.

Marco flipped off of Jean's shoulders and tackled Eren, bringing them both down face-first into the snow. Before Eren could retaliate, Jean had helped Marco up and they were running away.

"Stupid horseface!"

Marco and Jean dropped behind another snowdrift, a volley of snow flying over their heads. Jean's eyes were wide with excitement.

"You're breathing almost as heavily as you were last night," Marco said. Jean blushed.

"More snowballs." Once again they built up a small stockpile. Once again they charged, this time catching Mina, Hannah, and Sasha. The girls turned on them, murder in their eyes.

"Over here!" Thomas called, beckoning them behind a mound.

"Our girls are trying to kill us," explained Franz. "Apparently they have a lot of pent-up anger."

"Well I dunno about you guys, but Sasha has nothing to complain about," Connie said.

"Oh really?" Sasha poked her head over the top of the mound, smiling widely. Her husband screamed in surprise. Sasha grabbed his arms and pulled him over the mound.

"It's war out there," Thomas said. "We'd better run before Hannah and Mina get here."

But they were too late. Hannah and Mina vaulted over the mound, advancing menacingly.

"Jean. Marco. Get out of here. We don't want to hurt you," Mina said.

Franz and Thomas cowered behind Jean and Marco. "Don't let them get us," Thomas whispered.

"Move out of the way Jean, Marco. Don't make us hurt you."

Jean broke into a run, pulling a protesting Marco behind him.

The fight continued the rest of the day. Jean and Marco spent a lot of time running from group to group, defending some, betraying others. There were no winners at the end of the day. Just a heap of exhausted soldiers in a field of footprints, body prints, and piles of snow.

Marco looked out over the gouges in the snow, thinking of the pristine white field of the beginning of the day, and laughed quietly. Jean snickered. Like dry tinder catching fire, Marco's giggle set the whole group off, sending most everyone into hysterics.

"See Jean. Winter can be fun."

"I'm still cold."

"I'll warm you up later."

"Get a _room_, guys," said Connie.

* * *

After the snowball fight was over, the group split up to try and find a restaurant that wold accommodate them all for dinner. They scoured the district, going into every eating establishment they could find and begging for a table for seventeen. When they met back up at the battle ground, however, they hadn't found anywhere.

"We could always have a rain check for dinner," Armin said. Jean frowned and pulled Marco aside.

"Why don't we just get some groceries and cook at our house?" he said.

"Are you serious, Jean? That's what I wanted to do. I just wasn't sure you were up for it…. I didn't want to stress you out or anything." Marco's face was alight; he grabbed Jean up and spun him around in a hug. "This'll be great!" They went back to the group. "Why don't we eat at our house, guys?"

"I thought you just moved in?" Eren said.

"Well, we did. We don't have much furniture. It'll be like an indoor picnic!" Marco's excitement had infected Jean. He couldn't resist Marco's unabashedly joyful smile.

"On the floor?" Levi cringed.

"We'll sweep extra hard," Eren said. "Can we please go?"

"Yeah, I guess. You better make sure it's clean."

Eren turned to Jean. "We're in, horseface!"

Almost everyone agreed to dinner at Jean and Marco's new home. Annie had a night shift to cover for Marlow, who had the flu. Hannah and Franz had to pick up their newborn child from the babysitter. The rest went to the district's market for groceries.

Another short walk later and they were piling into the new house. Connie ran his hand along the unpainted wall. "I really like what you've done with the place. Very sophisticated. And all the boxes, too, they make a great style statement."

"Shut up, Connie," said Jean. "Help us with supper."

It was lucky that the kitchen was so sparsely furnished, with fourteen people crowded into it. The pasta supper they made would have taken hours to prepare, but with so many helping hands the cooking went quickly. Thomas and Mina teamed up to find enough cushions for everyone to sit on, Connie and Sasha stirred the noodles. Reiner and Bert tried to help, but their enormous size made them more of a liability, so they assisted by staying out of the way. Ymir and Krista were sent out on an expedition to find a palatable bottle of wine. Eren, Armin, Mikasa, and Levi together worked at cutting the different vegetables that were needed for the sauce. Eren had a one-sided battle with Mikasa, trying to cut things faster and more precisely. Though Mikasa never noticed his efforts, she won by a landslide. Jean and Marco began the complicated process of fixing the meat for the sauce.

"You can tenderize my beef anytime, Jean," Marco said, reading over the recipe.

"Marco! We aren't alone!"

"I know we're not!" he replied innocently. He stood behind Jean and looped his arm around his waist, resting his head on Jean's shoulder. Marco dipped his finger into the sauce and licked it. "Your sauce is so good, Jean," he cooed into his ear. "Can I have some more?"

"Don't!" Jean said. His face was as red as the sauce, and Marco smiled in satisfaction.

"Ooooh, Sasha, stir the noodles harder," Connie said, mocking Jean and Marco. "You guys are so gross. Just get married already."

Everything but the sauce was ready quickly, so everyone but Jean and Marco were sent out of the kitchen to scour the boxes for festive placemats and seasonal decorations for the floor. It was Marco's brilliant idea to turn off all the electric lights and illuminate the room with candles alone. They dug out the best dishes Jean and Marco had and piled into the living room, candles and all, and make a big circle with the cushions. The food was delicious, and they all ate happily.

Everyone was relaxed, the feeling of easy friendship spreading over all of them. Even Levi, who was a newcomer to the circle of friends, was unguarded and talked freely with the others. They reminisced about their time as cadets together, and Levi listened with fascination; he'd never gone to training camp due to the circumstances of his inclusion in the survey corps. Marco noticed that even he was comfortable, and was happy. Eventually, they were all sitting around empty plates. Marco rested his head on Jean's shoulder and closed his eyes. Seeing this, Armin stood up.

"You guys, I think we should probably get going. We don't want to push Jean and Marco's hospitality too far!"

Despite their hosts' protests, Armin, Eren, Mikasa, and Levi left. Thomas and Mina followed soon after. Ymir and Krista were the last to leave.

After staying late into the night, Sasha, Connie, Bert and Reiner opted to stay. They helped to clean the filthy kitchen, dirtied from the phenomenal effort of cooking for fourteen people. After that, there was much rummaging in boxes and sheets were found to spread out in the living room. Pajamas were found for Connie and Sasha, who fit into Jean's fancy matching-top-and-bottom sleepwear. Marco's biggest sweat pants and sweater just barely fit Reiner's muscular body, but nothing could be done for Bert, whose frame was just too enormous.

Though they were all grown adults (Sasha and Connie were even a married couple!) the years melted away between this night and the nights when they were cadets and all slept in fairly close quarters. Into the early morning, they talked about memories from cadet camp. They giggled over Eren's early struggles with the 3DMG. They remembered the time when Reiner had 'gone on a date' with Krista, during which he stepped on her feet no less than seven times and fell down a hill showing off his balance.

"That's when she decided she's gay!" Sasha said.

"I wasn't _that_ bad!" Reiner said in protest.

They remembered the time Shadis had caught Sasha stealing food for the fourth time in three days. He'd gotten back at her by forcing her to eat it using only her right hand, her non-dominant hand, which had made a mess. Then he'd forbidden her from washing her face for the rest of the day.

"He thought I'd be embarrassed," Sasha said. "But that bread was amazing, fresh baked and all. I regretted nothing."

"You were just happy there was some leftover on your face for later!" said Reiner.

Then there was the time Connie had confessed his love to Sasha and they'd had their awkward first kiss. They'd thought things were going well until there was a tremendous snort nearby them, and they'd had to explain to Shadis why they were kissing instead of training.

"Jealous old man," Connie said.

There were countless Bert-sweat jokes to be remembered. Finally Reiner noticed that Jean and Marco had been fairly quiet this whole time, and were sneaking glances at each other.

"You two are acting awful weird," he said. "What are you hiding?"

"It's – it's really nothing!" Marco said. His freckles were hidden by the blush that turned his whole face red. Jean touched one rose-coloured ear.

"It wouldn't be so bad to tell them…" he said.

"Tell us what!?" all four of their friends said at once.

"Well… Jean let me tell it. You'll tell it… too thoroughly." Jean smirked. "Back in cadet camp, Jean didn't want anyone to know we were gay. He thought it'd mess up Shadis' opinion of us. He thought it would jeopardize our chances of being in the top ten, like maybe Shadis would sabotage us or something. But then… one day, Jean and I were in the woods… doing… something…" Marco could barely continue, he was stammering so badly. "When we heard Shadis' voice. And then… there was another voice. At first we thought they were discussing official matters or something. But… when we were trying to sneak away… we caught a glimpse of them. The other guy was that guy who was watching our initiation. The one with the big nose who Connie kept poking fun at because he was so ugly. Well, Connie, remember when you said 'He and Shadis are both so ugly, it'd be so romantic if they could be together'?

Marco took a deep breath before continuing. "Apparently, it _was_ so romantic. Right when we were sneaking past, they kissed. We would have gotten away from them except _Jean_," Marco turned with remembered annoyance to Jean. "Jean _had_ to laugh! Not just a small chuckle. He _guffawed_. Shadis was _so_ mad! But he was scared, too. He still wasn't comfortable with being gay, and he was so afraid we'd go around spreading stories. Ever notice how Shadis seemed wary of us? You guys were always saying how it wasn't fair we got to be his special favorites. That's why."

Their four friends were laughing uncontrollably.

"All that time and we never knew. I can't believe you didn't blackmail him better!" Reiner said.

The rest of the night was spent in much this manner until one by one, they drifted off to sleep.

In the morning, they were all too sleepy to talk much, and they cooked French toast without much conversation. There were, however, a lot of sleepy, happy smiles. Shortly after breakfast, Reiner and Bert left, then Sasha and Connie.

"Winter brings people together, Jean." Marco was curled up in Jean's lap on their couch, watching the snow fall outside the window.

"Yeah, you're right. Winter… has its merits. And if I'm with you, Marco… I guess I could love it." Marco pulled back in amazement.

"Seriously, Jean? I still have today to convince you!"

Jean kissed Marco's nose. "You've worked hard enough. I love winter. And I love you." Then they sat in silence.

"Jean… I'm glad. I love you too. But I still want to do what I had planned for today."

"Whatever you say."


	6. Chapter 6

"What exactly is it you've planned for today?" asked Jean. He absentmindedly rubbed his hand in small circles on Marco's back. Marco was sitting curled up in his lap, gazing lovingly into Jean's eyes. Every day like this, with Marco, stunned Jean with the new heights of happiness he reached. Even though Marco had spent the last few days masterminding elaborate schemes to make Jean love winter, Jean was just as happy with little moments like this, when he was alone with Marco and everything was quiet. He traced his fingers along the constellation of freckles on his boyfriend's cheeks.

Marco closed his eyes and was quiet for a moment before answering. "Just this."

"Just what?"

"You know. A quiet day inside. With you." Outside the window the snow had thickened, and the world looked grey and forbidding. All the colors of their drab house seemed more saturated in contrast to the monochromatic scene outside. "Hiding from winter inside a cozy house is one of my favorite parts."

"_You_, Marco?" said Jean. "I thought freezing your dick off was your favorite part."

Marco laughed. "That's pretty fun too, but I decided to keep it on your behalf. Want me to make some hot chocolate?"

Jean snuggled deeper into the couch, allowing Marco to cover him with a blanket and tuck it in at the sides. He stared out the window at what he once would have called bleak and cold. Now, he saw the warmth in the faces of the pedestrians, saw the magic of the ice-frosted trees. Even the thick grey clouds, clouds he would have once called oppressive, seemed more like a protective blanket now. Jean smiled. Marco had won, but that was okay. If Marco was happy, then in a way, they b0th won.

Marco returned with a steaming bowl of hot chocolate.

"We do have mugs, you know…" Jean said. Marco handed him the bowl and set up a collapsible table beside the couch. Then he snuggled in under the blanket with Jean.

"We can share this way. I made enough for both of us. Just don't spill."

Not spilling proved much more difficult for Jean then Marco had anticipated. It was a good thing Marco had only warmed the drink, not heated it too much, because Jean quickly spilled a large dribble down the side of his mouth. Marco licked it away, and drank down the bowl so Jean could have some.

"So I win?" said Marco.

"Yeah, I guess so. Things outside the window… look different." Jean's voice was quiet, hesitant.

"What do you mean, different?"

"Like the snow. Before this it looked forbidding and gross and cold and just… bad. Now, it's pretty. I think it's because it reminds me of you. I think I'll always think of you when I see snow. I think winter might become my new favorite season, because it'll remind me so strongly of you."

"I'll be here in the summertime, too!"

"It won't be the same though, because I've always loved summertime. But I truly did hate winter until you… changed things. Now it has a whole new meaning, thanks to you."

Marco smiled. "Good then."

They were quiet for so long that when Jean spoke next, Marco didn't reply. Jean carefully tilted his face, and saw that Marco had fallen asleep. Jean placed a gentle kiss on his lips before resting his head on Marco's. The late night they had had with their friends caught up with Jean, and soon he was sleeping just as soundly.

When Jean woke up again, Marco was off in the kitchen making supper, although it was still early. Though he felt he'd done nothing in the past 24 hours but eat and sleep, Jean found he was surprisingly hungry, and followed the smell of bacon and eggs into the kitchen.

"You better enjoy today's supper, because tomorrow's is on you," said Marco.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. But I'm more excited for _after_ supper." Marco blushed. He was used to making subtle hints that made Jean react, not the other way around.

Jean yawned. "You know, for someone who spent a whole day sleeping, I'm surprisingly tired."

"But that's one of the good things about winter! Now that we have time off for winter holidays, we can sleep all we want. Will you watch the eggs while I look for something?"

Marco rummaged around in one box after another, clearly looking for something that evaded him. When Jean asked what he was looking for, Marco would only say 'a surprise'. Finally he returned triumphant, with their CD player and a disc.

"There's a song that you're reminding me of," he said, and plugged in the player. A few seconds later, 'Let it Snow' filled the room.

"But neither of us is leaving!" Jean said after he heard the line _'How I'll hate going out in the storm'_. "Neither of us is ever leaving the other." He ran to Marco's side and hugged him in a fit of sudden worry.

"Of course neither of us is leaving," Marco said. He rubbed Jean's back. "Which means that we can stay at the '_If you really hold me tight'_ part.

Jean smiled. "Promise?"

"Promise."

They ate dinner with the music still playing softly in the background. Marco got up first, and Jean stood to help him clear the plates. Marco gently sat him back down in his chair, however, and cleaned up quickly by himself. Then he walked over to Jean and held out one hand. Jean regarded it with confusion.

"Dance with me, silly," said Marco.

_"I'm dreaming of a white Christmas," _Marco sang, twirling Jean once. "_Just like the ones I used to know…"_ They danced slowly around the room as the song played. Marco continued to sing, and Jean rested his head contentedly against Marco's chest.

"I'll show you a white Christmas," Marco said when the song was over. Jean switched off the CD player and tugged Marco towards the stairs.

* * *

The blizzard of the previous day still hadn't let up at all. The lawn was so buried in snow that the peaks of the snowdrifts touched the bottoms of the ground-floor windows. Because the innermost wall where Jean and Marco lived was for the privileged citizens, almost everyone was given the day off. Marco stood in front of a half-decorated Christmas tree, looking out the window and thinking silently of his friends in the Recon Corps, in manufacturing, in the Garrison, and on farms, all of whom had to work in this weather. _'We're the lucky ones_,' he thought to himself. Even though his friends had chosen where they worked, Marco couldn't help but feel that fate had been kindest to him and Jean.

Jean was in the kitchen, starting to marinade the steak. When he was done he brought out a box of Christmas decorations.

"We haven't even finished moving in yet and you want to decorate for a holiday," Jean said. He shook his head.

"Oh shush, Christmas is important. And we get to hang the mistletoe!"

Jean rummaged through the box. He pulled out mistletoe after mistletoe. "How much of this shit do you _have_, Marco?!"

"I wanted to make sure you had to kiss me as much as possible."

"I'd do that without turning our ceilings into gigantic hanging shrubbery."

"It's tradition!" said Marco. He grabbed all but one of the bushels of mistletoe and left the room. Jean was left grumbling in the living room. The smell of their Christmas tree filled the whole room. He hung the one remaining sprig of mistletoe above the couch and turned to the half-finished Christmas tree. He began hanging ornaments.

"You've clumped them all together!" Marco said when he came back into the room. He joined Jean at the Christmas tree and began rehanging ornaments. "I've hung all the mistletoe!"

"Oh God."

Jean had to go back to the kitchen to continue the elaborate dinner he was planning, so Marco was left alone, smiling and humming Christmas carols. He hummed until, without thinking, he began to sing. Jean heard him from the kitchen and sang quietly along. Both men were peaceful and happy. Marco snuck up on him while he cooked and hugged him from behind.

"Look up."

There was a small bushel of mistletoe.

"That's one part of winter I could get used to," said Jean.

"I win."

"Was there ever any doubt?"

"Not in my mind," Marco said.

They kissed under the mistletoe. They spent the rest of the day hanging wreaths and wrapping tinsel around the banisters.

"Wow Marco, you really go all out when it comes to Christmas!"

"It _is_ my favorite holiday. And this one is going to be better than any other, since I'm with you!"

Jean made a fine supper for Marco. He cooked roast beef, mashed potatoes, corn, and gravy.

"Mmm, wow. You really upheld your side of the bet!" Marco said.

"Yeah, like you didn't." Jean said. "No one's ever put as much effort into a bet as you put into this one. You had me partially convinced at about day two."

"Well, I was really looking forward to this dinner, see. Not to mention what comes afterward."

Jean turned red and almost choked on his potatoes. After supper, Jean started to clean up, but Marco stopped him.

"I can't wait for you to be done this. We'll sort it out tomorrow. Let's go."

Jean allowed himself to be tugged up the stairs.

It was 12:30. Marco was asleep, but Jean needed a glass of water. He got up and pulled on a pair of shorts, then headed for the kitchen. The blizzard still hadn't let up. The next day he'd probably have to dig their windows out of the huge snowdrifts. There were probably people outside to whom this massive amount of snowfall was a curse. Jean would once have been among them. Now, however, he just smiled. He ran some water, then returned to bed, to where his love and his future lay sleeping.


End file.
